Woke in an Irish bed, sun shining in
Then all went dark; ferocious wind picked up
Her banshee tones confining me within
Yet by the time I drained my coffee cup
Her skies had dried, turned bluer with each sip
As through my drink had revived her goodwill
And now at last she smiled, late in my trip
Instead of smouldering, wishing me ill
Each sally forth was beaten back until
The time had come to return to Dublin
The country lane unwound me to the top
Of its unbecoming finger, her shrill
And cutting wind becalmed. Bound for Bandon
Abandoning this country without hope
Mon 22 March
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